A Tale of Four Seasons
by fireblazie
Summary: Spring, summer, autumn, winter. This is their story, told in four seasons. HxK.


**Title: **A Tale of Four Seasons

**Author: **fireblazie**  
Fandom: **Detective Conan**  
Pairing: **Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha**  
Rating:** G**  
Warnings: **May contain very subtle, subtle (and I do mean subtle) spoilers for Detective Conan Movie 7.**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own Detective Conan.

_one - spring._

There were days when she would wake up with an ache in her chest, her stomach, her head. It wasn't that she was sick, not really, but that she was tired, maybe? Tired of school, tired of life, tired of people.

But it wasn't like, "Hey, I'm tired, I quit at life" would be a valid excuse. So Kazuha stumbled out of bed, tossing the blankets on the floor, and tripped out the door.

---

There were days when he would wake up, wide-awake, no questions or desires for an extra five minutes. It wasn't that he was a morning person, because he most certainly was _not_, and usually took him a good hour before he was fully awake and ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. But there were definitely those good and few days when he would genuinely feel good about life in general.

But it wasn't like, "Life is _wonderful, wonderful, wonderful_" was something very Heiji-like to say. So he flopped out of bed, leaving the blankets a wrinkled mess on the bed, and strode out the door.

---

The thing about spring, she thought to herself while walking by herself to school that day – Heiji had an early morning kendo practice – was that the cherry blossoms were sickeningly fragrant. Unescapable, even. No matter where she went, the scent followed her. In class. At home. And definitely outside.

She shot the cherry blossom tree a dirty glare.

---

The thing about spring, he thought to himself as he walked to school that early morning – the skies were still caught between that web of night and day – was that those cherry blossoms smelled so _nice_ that he couldn't help but feel happy. The scent followed him everywhere he went, and it washed him over with a feeling akin to warmth, reminding him of Kyoto and that pigtailed little girl who played beneath the cherry blossoms.

He smiled slightly at the cherry blossom tree.

---

So when they finally did meet up at school, ten minutes before the bell was due to ring, Kazuha shot him a Look which he returned at only half-force.

"I'm in a good mood," he announced to her. "You know what, I'll even get you some cherry blossoms at lunch, if you want. I'll run way off to that tree over there and pick all the cherry blossoms and give 'em to you."

An eyebrow twitched. "Please. Don't."

Heiji scowled. "Hello, Mary Poppins."

"You're acting like Kuroba-kun."

Heiji balked. "Oh, _god_."

---

A week later, Kazuha discovered, courtesy of her father, that her room was a _tad_ messy.

All right. Maybe more than just a tad.

"That room had better be clean by the time I get back," her father told her.

She pouted.

---

A week later, Heiji also discovered, courtesy of his mother, that his room was maybe just a little bit messy.

About as messy as Kudo's life, maybe.

"You'd better clean that room," his mother said sternly.

He frowned.

---

There was a large cardboard box in the corner of her closet. Truth be told, she'd just about forgotten about it up until now. As she moved her laundry basket out of the way, she was able to drag the box out of her closet and into the light. She blew at the top, wincing as dust flew everywhere.

She opened it.

And instantly remembered. Cheeks flushing, she slammed the box shut and practically kicked it back into its corner, in the back of her closet.

Never to be opened again, she thought to herself, firmly, never, ever, ever.

---

There was a photo album underneath his bed. If he were honest, he'd admit that he'd actually forgotten about its existence, but since he was the oh-so-wonderful-and-almighty-Hattori-Heiji-the-famous-Detective-of-the-West, well, then that was simply out of the question.

He opened it.

And blushed furiously. He shut it forcefully and shoved it back under his bed, wishing he hadn't thought to open it in the first place. He shook himself out of it.

Never look at that again, he thought to himself resolutely, never again.

---

At the end of the day, she collapsed on her bed, ready for a good-night's sleep. It seemed like the fates were against her, though, because her cell phone began to vibrate, loudly.

She fumbled for it, eventually groping for the "talk" button and forcing out a groggy, "Hello?"

He was on the other end, and he was equally exhausted, haphazardly draped over his couch. "It's me."

"Ah. What's up?"

"I – " He grimaced at the memory. "Had to clean."

"Spring cleaning, I see." She sounded amused. "Me, too." The conversation shifted to silence, both comfortable and awkward at once. "Um, I have to go. Dinner's ready." It was a lie; it wasn't.

"Okay then. See you."

"Bye."

_two – summer._

In the middle of the blistering heat, Kazuha found herself stopping in front of a wooden park bench and collapsing clumsily on top of it. It was hot, hot, _hot_, and she could barely keep herself standing upright. She could feel the sweat drizzling down her face and neck, and it was most certainly not a pleasant feeling.

"Ice cream," she murmured to herself, "I need ice cream."

Mentally going through the different ice cream shops in her head, she made a beeline for the closest Ben & Jerry's, approximately a block away from her current location.

She ordered two scoops of chocolate fudge ice cream, savoring the way the the cool dessert refreshed her parched mouth. Maybe she would call Heiji, since she wanted to see him. Not _see him see him_, of course, but merely see him. Retrieving her cell phone from her back pocket, she dialed his number.

---

Amidst the sweltering heat, Heiji found himself lying on his futon, sitting directly in front of the electric fan. It was so, so, _so_ hot, and he could barely keep himself awake, the heat weaving its sleepy spell on him. The electric fan cooled him off, but the heat outside radiated through the windows, beads of sweat forming on his shoulders.

"I want ice cream," he mumbled, half-asleep.

But the fridge was devoid of any such dessert, he having finished the last carton of ice cream only last night. A frustrated groan escaped from his lips.

His eyes were drooping slowly shut, dreaming of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream and ice-cold-tea and cold water and ice cubes and snowflakes and frost. He wondered if he ought to call Kazuha. Maybe they could hang out together? Or better yet, he could have her drop by the grocery store and bring some ice cream over. He grabbed his cell phone off the desk, just as it began to ring.

---

"Heiji, it's me," she said, "want to meet me for ice cream? Ben & Jerry's. No, I am _not_ going all the way over there, are you crazy? It's scorching hot, and I'm inside an air-conditioned shop and I'm _not_ walking all the way to your house – no, get your own damn ice cream, moron – GOODBYE."

To rid herself of her extra anger, she ordered a Coke and practically chugged it, wincing as the cold beverage all but gave her a brain freeze.

What a jerk, she thought, fuming.

---

"Hey, 'zuha," he greeted, "where are you? No, it's too far for me to walk there. Why don't you come over here? My parents want to see you; they say they haven't seen you in a long time. No, I'm inside my house, with the fan cranked up, and I'm not going to walk all the way downtown to see you – hey, c'mon, just come over and – oh, bring some ice cream, would you? Kazuha? KAZUHA!"

Suddenly roused with anger, he stomped out of his room and marched straight to the fridge, unceremoniously grabbing an iced-tea, flinching as the cold drink suddenly made contact with his skin.

What an idiot, he thought, scowling.

---

In the end, she found herself walking through the busy downtown streets and through the winding sidewalks that led to Heiji's house, two pints of ice cream in a plastic bag. He was so infuriating sometimes, she thought.

And in the end, he found himself walking down the winding sidewalks that led out of the neighborhood and to downtown, glaring heatedly at the sun. She was just so irritating sometimes, he thought.

When they met, at last, in the middle, neither said a word. Heiji _did_, however, take the bag from her in an almost uncharacteristic gentlemanly gesture, and Kazuha _did_ offer to go to his house to greet his parents. It wasn't much, but it was good enough.

_three – autumn._

It was a windy Friday afternoon, and having saved her homework for Sunday night, Kazuha sat on a blue-green recliner in her living room, staring out the window. It was awfully windy outside, she reflected, watching as the tree branches shook and leaves fluttered dangerously from their safe havens.

In a fit of impatience and impulsiveness, she reached out and unlocked the window, sliding it up vigorously. She flinched as a chilly gust of air hit her, but soon relaxed in the depths of her stupor, allowing the breeze to caress her face and hair.

Idly, she wondered what Heiji could possibly be doing. He'd probably be procrastinating too, she thought, because he was just that sort of person. Didn't try at all, didn't study too much, but simply excelled in everything he did. She hated him, sometimes, for that.

It was then that the doorbell rang.

---

It was a windy Friday afternoon, and not particularly feeling the desire to get a head start's on his homework – he never did, really – Heiji found himself making the fifteen-minute trek from his house to Kazuha's. It sure was windy, he considered, feeling the cold wind ruffle his hair and watching as that same wind blew the leaves out of their homes on the branches.

Annoyed at the all-too-sudden change in weather, he zipped up his jacket a little too forcefully. A rather frigid gust of wind struck him, and he shivered, but soon grew used to the cooler temperature and continued on.

He allowed himself to wonder what she might be doing at that moment. Probably not homework, because he knew she'd never started early on her homework if she could help it. She was a good student, she really was, but she worked for it, nowadays often opting to stay behind while he went on cases to Tokyo in order to study and finish projects. He admired her, sometimes, for that.

It was then that he rang her doorbell.

---

When she opened the door, the large maple tree in her front yard let loose a shower of reddish colored leaves, and she paused to take in the sight. She'd have to rake that up later, she knew, but that could wait.

When she saw him, she _had_ to put on a fake scowl, even if she really _was_ happy to see him, because it wouldn't do for her to show that she enjoyed his company, right?

"What are you doing here?" she asked, rolling her eyes, but had already let him in. It was always like that. As they moved into the interior of the house, she paused. "Let me get you some tea. I'll be right back." And hurried off to the kitchen, bustling with tea bags and hot water.

When she returned, tea cups and teapot resting on a tray, he was nowhere in sight. Furrowing her brow, she tiptoed carefully across the floor. The light was on in her room. An aggravated look flittered across her face. She didn't really _mind_, because obviously they'd been invading each other's personal space since birth, but he could at least _ask_…

She crossed the threshold, "Heiji, what are –" and dropped the tray, hot liquid scalding her skin.

---

When she opened the door, the large maple tree in her front yard nearly bombarded him with a flood of reddish colored leaves. He'd barely escaped unscathed, the storm maybe missing him by an inch.

And of course, when she laid eyes on him, he _had_ to put on a disgruntled expression, as if _she'd_ been the one to force him to come all the way over here. Because that was just the way it worked, after all.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, and he pretended not to here, taking his shoes off at the doorway. She paused, "Let me get you some tea. I'll be right back." And hurried off to the kitchen, leaving him standing in the hall. He would go to her room, he decided, and therefore went in that direction. Her door was open, and he made himself comfortable on her bed.

It was then that he noticed that her closet was open, and if he peered in closely, he could see the silhouette of a large cardboard box in the corner. Curiousity rising, he dragged the box out of the closet space and lifted the lid. There was a collection – a _big _collection – of crumpled balls of paper, hidden in the confines of the box. It occurred to him that she might not want him looking through her things, but hey, they'd known each other since childhood anyway. What harm could it do?

He had just read the first sentence off a wrinkled sheet of paper when the sound of a muffled gasp and broken glass reached his ears.

---

"Did you see anything?" she asked, as he plunged her arm underneath a torrent of ice cold water in the sink.

"See anything?" he echoed, eyes focused on the reddish-pink wrist he was holding under the water, "oh, except for you acting like a total idiot and practically burning yourself? No. No, not really."

"I'm serious," she said, and she was. Her wrist stung a little bit, from the tea, but it was nothing that wouldn't go away after a little while. That wasn't what she was concerned about. "Did you –"

"No," he said, "I didn't."

"Oh," was her outside reply, _thank goodness_ was her inner.

She didn't know it, of course, but he was lying. And later that night, as he changed his clothes, a balled-up piece of paper fell out of his back pocket, and the words _Dear Heiji, I really, really like you_ in her loopy handwriting engraved themselves in his mind forever.

_four – winter._

The snow drizzled lightly on the cement pavement, and she, once again, found herself in front of his house. Raising a hand, she pressed the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. His mother came to the door, with a warm smile, and informed her that Heiji was not yet home, but would be back in a few minutes, and would she like to stay and wait for him? Kazuha agreed, and made herself at home in his room.

His bed was unmade, blankets and pillows haphazardly tossed at every angle. She made a small sound of amusement at the sight. She sat down on the floor, leaning her head back to rest on the mattress.

That was when she realized that something sharp was poking her in her lower back. Wincing, she scooted forward, shifted her body around, and pulled out the photo album that was currently underneath his bed. Tilting her head in interest, she opened the photo album.

"Oh –" She shut it quickly, ran out of his room, bade a quick farewell to his mother, and sprinted out the door, only to meet _his_ startled gaze. "Uh, bye," she muttered, not quite able to look him in the eye just yet – and walked straight past him.

---

The snow fell, lightly, on the ground and he strode calmly from the grocery store, plastic bags of vegetables and fruits and meat clutched in his gloved hands. He was only a few blocks away from the house now, so no hurry. He liked the snow, really, enjoyed watching it fall from the sky, enjoyed the calm fragility of the season.

His neck was cold, he realized, as odd as the thought sounded. Shifting all of the plastic bags to one hand, he used his free hand to slip the hood over his head… but still, the warmth it provided was not enough, not really. Maybe he would buy himself a scarf this Christmas?

Something was poking him in the leg, he realized, staring down at his left calf. It was a quart of milk, of all things, practically falling out of the plastic it was being carried in. He picked up his pace, seeing his house in the distance.

As he ascended the steps of his front porch, the door opened violently, and a blur rushed out of his house, barreling straight into his chest. The blur looked up, and Heiji was faced with the greenest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. "Uh, bye," she said, hastily, and fled.

---

She tried to forget about the incident, and proceeded so by knitting. She wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was knitting, honestly, only that the _click-click-click_ sounds of the needles comforted her, and the methodical actions drowned out the photo album from her mind.

And so the weekend passed, with her camped out in her living room, curled up on the couch next to the lamp, the television turned on.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered, absently, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, concentrating on her knitting. It was starting to look like a scarf. She could add a fringe at the ends, and it would be completely wearable…

And then she realized exactly who was on the other end.

He talked, and talked and talked, but she wasn't listening, not really.

And then, because her mouth always did like to betray her, she blurted out, "I saw the photo album under your bed."

It all went downhill from there.

---

Although the whole Kazuha-running-out-on-him incident was still rather high-ranking on his list of oddities, he figured it was best to forget about it. Christmas being less than a week away, he'd gone for his share of last-minute-Christmas-shopping, and had returned with a cream colored jacket.

It would probably be for her, he thought. That was how his weekend had passed, trying to find something that she would maybe, probably, sort of like, because Kazuha never accepted any of his gifts without a complaint or two.

He picked up the house phone and dialed her number.

"It's me," he said. She'd answered with a rather absentminded tone, like she hadn't fully realized who she was talking to yet. He shrugged; no matter, really. He picked up the cup of coffee he'd brought home from Starbucks, holding it to his lips.

She was awfully silent, he thought, until she said, "I saw the photo album under your bed."

The coffee spilled – on the jacket he'd just bought for her.

But he was too dazed – too dazed to even start yelling at her, which would have been a normal reaction. Instead, he said, "I saw the box in your closet."

And that was that.

---

At the end of everything, she sat herself down on top of the bright blue slide at the park near Heiji's house. She remembered playing here when she was younger, together with him. She remembered that one time when he'd shoved her down the slide, face down, and she'd been met with a mouthful of sand at the end of it.

Sometimes that was how she felt, dealing with him… always ending up with a mouthful of sand.

In her lap she clutched a department store bag, much bigger than the item it contained – a dark green, hand-knitted scarf. She wasn't entirely sure why she brought it out here. Knowing him, he'd probably just say something stupid and they'd get into a fight again…

She glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. Thirty minutes until she'd promised her father she'd meet him at Heiji's house. It was Christmas Eve, and they were going there to celebrate. Fat chance of _that_ happening; they hadn't spoken in three days now, which was so odd, because they'd never _not_ spoken to each other out of anger, as they would usually _scream_ at each other until the anger dissipated into the air.

What should she do now?

"Boo."

She started in surprise, turning to see him standing there, a bag in his right hand. "Hi," she said, after a length of silence.

He nodded, sitting down behind her, leaning against the brightly colored bars of the playground. "I…well, I got you this." He held it out to her. "Figured it would be better to give it to you now than in front of our parents."

"Oh. Thank you." Mechanically, she reached out for it and held out her own gift to him. "This one's for you."

"Ah. Thanks."

They opened their respective gifts, and, almost simultaneously, burst out laughing.

"What in the world is _this_ supposed to be?" he asked, between laughs.

"It's supposed to be a _scarf_, of course! There's a fringe and everything…"

"And about a million gaping holes in the middle of it!"

"Shut up, it was my first time to knit – and what's _this_? A coffee stain? Idiot!"

"Don't call me an idiot, you idiot!"

Their laughter subsided, and as it did, her expression turned somber, hugging the jacket closer to her. "I didn't mean to look through your stuff, you know."

"I know." His smile faded to a softer, slighter one. "I didn't mean to go through yours, either. I just…"

He trailed off, and she didn't push him.

"They…" she began, stumbling for words, "they were letters. To you. All of them. I couldn't _tell_ you, to your face, you know, so… I just wrote. A lot. I – well, god, I don't know –"

"The picture," he started, "it was – it was a stupid joke by my – my parents are idiots, okay – when – when you were sick, at the hospital, with pneumonia, last year… and –"

"And you kissed me?"

He turned away. "Shut up."

She smiled, and tentatively leaned back against his arm. He shifted into a more comfortable position for both of them, and nothing more was said. There was only jacket with a coffee stain. A scarf with gaping holes. A boy and a girl.

That was all they needed.

_And the end of all our searching shall be to return to the place where we started and know it for the first time._

-T.S. Eliot

**FIN**

For _Strawberry'd_, for re-introducing me into the world of Asian dramas! For _Candyland_, who beta-ed it. Thank you, you two!

Yes, I realize it's been a while since I've last written anything Heiji/Kazuha (well, written anything, period), so I'm aware I'm really (read: REALLY) out of practice. Ah, well. Leave a review, if you don't mind!


End file.
